


Love Bug Express (Mail Delivery Service) - Part Four

by ladydragon76



Series: Love Bug [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Rating: PG-13, character: bluestreak, character: bob, character: drift, character: megatron, character: rodimus, character: skids, character: swerve, character: ultra magnus, genre: fluff, genre: humor, verse: idw, warning: au, warning: canon- what canon?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 04:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3343517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> Thank you for choosing Love Bug Express for your delivery needs.  Our Delivery Specialist is the best bug in the business.  No one offers a better price, attention to detail, or is as dedicated to customer care as the Love Bug.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Bug Express (Mail Delivery Service) - Part Four

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thoughtsdemise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsdemise/gifts).



> **‘Verse:** IDW  
>  **Series:** Love Bug  
>  **Rating:** PG-13  
>  **Characters:** Bob, Crew of the Lost Light  
>  **Warnings:** Sugar Shock?  
>  **Notes:** This series commissioned by ThoughtsDemise, and too fun to write! Thank you, darling! I hope you like it!

Bob’s helm tipped as he stared up at the bright swarm leader, antennae wobbling as he tried to understand. He looked down at the little box in his hands, then back up at the mech. This was _for_ Rodimus? He held the box out to the mech.

“Yeah. Just like that, Bob. But in the bar later, ok?” Rodimus whispered. “Later,” he repeated firmly, and pushed the little box back toward Bob.

Later? Later. Bar? Oh! The gathering room! Bob chirped, and tucked the little box of what smelled like treats in against his chest. He could do that.

“Yeah! Good boy, Bob.” Rodimus reached out with both hands, and Bob pushed his helm into the fingers that scritched so nice around the bases of his antennae. He purred, soaking up the attention for a moment, but he did have other deliveries to make. Reluctantly, the insecticon edged back, and the leader let him. “Good boy,” he said again, then stood, looked around, and then hurried off.

Bob chirred, allowed himself a happy wriggle, and then trundled off as well.

~ | ~

“Oh wow!” Bluestreak exclaimed as Bob held out an info chip to him. “Thanks! Oh this is cool, I really wasn’t expecting to get anything.” Bob wriggled in place as the grey mech dug in his subspace, then offered a treat stick. It was crunched right then and there, the insecticon laying down to lick the crumbles off the floor.

“What’s it say?” Hound asked.

Bluestreak plugged the chip into a datapad, his face shading darker the longer he read.

“Must be good,” Skids snickered.

“Uh. Who sent this?” Bluestreak asked and looked around. Helms shook all around, and he finally looked down at Bob, but the insecticon was busy making sure he’d gotten every last bit of the treat.

“What’s it say, Blue?” Hound asked again.

“It’s… Kinda personal?” Bluestreak chewed his lip. “Someone thinks I’m really attractive though.” Doorwings lifted and dropped in a helpless shrug. “I think I’d rather find out who it’s from before I give details. Actually, I probably shouldn’t give details. There’re a lot of details. Wow…” he whimpered, optics dropping to the datapad again before he quickly shoved it into his subspace. “I gotta go.”

Laughter and cheers followed Bluestreak out of the bar, and no one noticed Rodimus trying to call Bob over to him for the second delivery he’d sent himself. However, Bob scurried out the doors before they could close, intent on finding the next mech he had been hired to deliver a gift to.

~ | ~

The conference room door hissed open, interrupting the meeting in progress. All optics turned to Bob, and his belly dipped a little closer to the floor. These mechs were the top leaders of the swarm, and while only Ultra Magnus really intimidated the insecticon anymore, they _were_ the ones that could decide to make Bob and Sunstreaker outcasts again. Something he did not want.

Oh no. Who was he supposed to deliver to? Four gold optics shifted between the three faces, and Bob hustled over to the most friendly one. A tiny hand offered an info chip, and Megatron reached down to take it with one hand while the other covered Bob’s head for a gentle pat.

“Good boy, Bob. Thank you.”

Bob clicked, unable to get out a whole sound, then dashed back out of the room.

Megatron chuckled, but caught the odd look on Rodimus’ face. “Well, this was your idea.”

“I know, I just- Never mind. What’d you get?”

Ultra Magnus sighed, but Megatron plugged in the chip and snickered. Oh. That explained the odd look. “It seems I have an admirer amongst the crew. I’m someone’s favorite captain.” He met Rodimus’ optics with a cool expression and waited for the reaction. He would recognize these words anywhere. The wording of the message _screamed_ Rodimus, and Megatron knew he wasn’t the intended recipient.

Bright plating lifted and twitched before resettling. Even Ultra Magnus wore a more amused expression as Rodimus finally ground out, “How nice.”

“It really is,” Megatron said. Silly fool. Sending himself love notes. Primus. He lifted a hand toward Ultra Magnus. “Apologies for the interruption, Magnus, as you were saying?”

Rodimus grumbled something, but was ignored as Megatron and Ultra Magnus got back to ship’s business.

~ | ~

“Someone thinks I’m the best,” Trailcutter said, smiling happily, his field actually relaxed and calm for once.

“You are the best, buddy,” Skids said and clapped a hand on Trailcutter’s shoulder.

“Was it you?”

“Nope, but I agree with whoever it was.” Skids grinned, gave Trailcutter’s shoulder a last squeeze, then took the two drinks from Swerve over to a table where Getaway was waiting for him.

“No idea who?” Swerve asked. “Gotta be some clue in there.”

Trailcutter shrugged. “I have no idea, but the letter says that I’m the best. There’s no other like me, and he’s glad to have me around.” He was curious, but just reading the words was really nice and made his spark feel all floaty. He was lost in yet another reread and missed Rodimus’ stunned expression and quiet ‘slaggit’ from a few seats away.

~ | ~

“Where’d Drift get those goodies?” Rodimus asked, a frown on his face. That looked _just_ like the box he had sent himself.

“Dang. Jealous much?” Bluestreak snickered. “And didn’t I hear something about how you had him exiled for-”

“I’m not jealous,” Rodimus snapped, cutting Bluestreak off. He did _not_ want to talk about the whole exile thing. Pits, he should probably go and like, apologize or something. Maybe send Drift a letter of his own about it just to clear the air.

“If you say so,” Bluestreak said, then picked up his drink and left Rodimus to stew alone.

~ | ~

“Ok, bug,” Rodimus said, and then felt bad as Bob’s belly hit the deck from his tone. Damnit. He sighed, and reached out to scritch the insecticon’s helm. “It’s ok, Bob.” He added a slight croon to his voice and gave Bob a really good petting. “This is important though, so I need you to get it to the right mech this time.” He had been thinking about that letter to Drift, but this also gave him the chance to tell Magnus a few things too. Things he knew he would never be allowed to say out loud.

Bob was given a treat and a really thorough helm scritching until he was pushing into Rodimus and purring. “Good boy, Bob.” And there was the aft waggle. “Ok. Here you go.” The info chip was held out for the insecticon to take. “Ultra Magnus. Take this to Magnus right now, ok?” Antennae waved, and Bob chirped. Rodimus gave him a little nudge. “He’s in his office, so go there right now. Go to Magnus. Good boy.”

~

Bob poked the call button, and then sat in the most perfect ‘sit, Bob’ he could until Ultra Magnus opened the door to his office. He chirred softly and offered the chip.

“Me again?” Magnus took the chip and plugged it into a datapad. His optics blazed bright and wide, and his pale face shaded a light pink hue. Bob’s antennae slowly angled back as his helm sank down into his collar. There was a slight grinding noise, and then, “Thank you, Bob. That will be all.”

The door swooshed shut, and Bob slumped in relief.

~ | ~

After receiving both Drift _and_ Rodimus’ letters, Ultra Magnus had needed some time to give the situation some thought. Bob had obviously delivered the letter to the wrong mech a few days before, but the one from Rodimus was absolutely meant for Magnus. Drift’s had been intended for Rodimus, but the opportunity to return it to Drift had not been found as of yet. Of course, now with Rodimus’ rather… explicit letter, Magnus knew he needed to make the time to confront them both.

As luck would have it, Drift was just stepping off the lift as Magnus reached it. “Come with me please,” Magnus said. Drift bit his lip, but obligingly stepped back into the lift.

“Is something wrong?” Drift asked.

“No, but I need to speak to both you and Rodimus.” Drift’s optics paled at the statement, but Magnus didn’t elaborate. He would rather speak of this only once, and not in public.

Rodimus looked genuinely surprised to see Magnus when he opened the door to his quarters, and then even more so to see Drift with him. “Hi. Uh, come on it. Have a seat.” He waved Magnus and Drift over to the small lounge his rank afforded him. “Energon?”

“No, thank you,” Magnus said as he took a seat. Drift shrugged at Rodimus, and then sat on the edge of a chair with his hands pressed together between his knees and shoulders hunched a little.

“So…” Rodimus said. “You got my note? And you’re angry?”

“I am not angry at all,” Magnus said. He removed a datapad from his subspace and held it out to Rodimus. “This was intended for you.”

“Is that-” Drift’s vents stalled out, and his hand paused in a half reaching gesture, but Rodimus was already reading.

“Oh.” Rodimus’ gaze flickered up to Drift, then back to the datapad. “And you got my letter, Magnus?” he asked, still reading.

“I did, which is why I thought the three of us should sit down and discuss how any potential relationship would work out.” Both other mechs blinked up at Magnus. “Even if I am only casually involved, I prefer to have structure and clearly defined boundaries.”

“Boundaries?” Drift asked, then went right back to chewing on his lower lip. Magnus could feel the nervousness radiating from the white mech despite the arm’s length of distance between them.

“Yes. Boundaries.” Magnus pulled out another datapad. “First, I do not wish to be interrupted while on duty, and I am not at all comfortable with public displays. I would also like it, Rodimus, if you came to me clean. I am not aroused by signs of recent interfacing with others on my partner.” Rodimus gaped, and Drift’s vocalizer glitched with a burst of static. “If we are to work toward a true threesome, I will need time. I am… aware of how much Drift has changed, but I do not change as quickly.”

“Wait,” Rodimus said, holding a hand up. “Wait. You mean you’d actually be interested in all that stuff I wrote you?”

“Was it a prank?” Magnus asked, unable to completely hide the hurt disappointment that welled up under his spark. He was getting rather tired of being the aft end of others’ jokes.

“No,” Rodimus hurried to say, and in the next instant had managed to plop himself in Magnus’ lap. “No, it wasn’t a prank. I’m just… Wow. You’d be interested?”

“I should go,” Drift said, voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” Magnus said, and leaned out to catch Drift’s wrist before he could get out of range. His other arm wound around Rodimus to keep him in place. “That is not necessary. I am well aware of Rodimus’ feelings for you already. There is no reason, other than lack of consent, that the three of us can’t work out something beneficial.”

“Stay, Drift,” Rodimus said, smiling up at the white mech as he, too, reached out. “Magnus is right. Wanna figure it out with us?”

Drift bit his lip again, but let himself be tugged in until he could sit on the arm of Magnus’ chair. “I’m willing.”

“Good,” Magnus said, and then nudged Rodimus a bit so he could pick up the datapad again. “As I said, I’m not interested in my duty shifts being disrupted, and Rodimus, you are captain and should be setting an example.”

“Primus,” Rodimus groaned.

“Hush,” Drift said, a smile finally beginning to form. “Structure’s important to Magnus.”


End file.
